A Light to Burn All the Empires
by Ellen Smithee
Summary: Chicago wasn't the first time they'd met. It was just one time of many. Klaus/Stefan. Written for the bigbang mixup on LJ, mix by tartugax, art by saltzatore.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_These lines were here  
Long before we came around_

Sea Wolf, "Wicked Blood"

o-O-o-O-o

Klaus and Stefan never spoke of it later, but Chicago wasn't the first time they'd met. It was just one time of many.

o-O-o-O-o

_November 1862_

_Mystic Falls, Virginia_

At the beginning, there was blood. So much of it. On Stefan's face, in his eyes, running down his neck. His head was pounding and his shoulder hurt. Something was wrong, very wrong. He couldn't move his arm, and a bone was jutting out of his skin. And the pain…

He could hear Robert Lockwood's voice in the background, panicked and afraid, and then a man, telling Robert to go home, to forget. Then someone was holding him, shushing him as he shrieked in pain when his shoulder was jarred. Stefan felt something soft and wet on the wound and then something sharp, and he sucked in his breath through his teeth.

"Some birthday," he murmured. His first birthday without Damon, whom his father had sent to relatives in Charlottesville until some local trouble he'd caused had blown over, and now this.

The sharp sensation was suddenly gone and the stranger drew away. "It's your birthday?" His accent was funny, not one Stefan had ever heard before.

"Mmm, hmm." Stefan was barely conscious now, but he wondered why the stranger cared.

The stranger was silent for a moment, his hand on Stefan's face, his thumb idly stroking Stefan's cheekbone, and then he asked, "How old are you?"

"Six-sixteen."

"Very well then," the stranger said with a somewhat put-upon sigh. Stefan heard a strange crunching sound, and then something was pressed to his lips, and a bitter, metallic taste flooded his mouth, filling him with disgust. He whimpered and tried to move away, but the stranger held on tightly. The pain receded, and when the stranger leaned down to lick the remaining blood from the now smaller wound on his shoulder, Stefan just lay there and shivered at the touch until the stranger pulled away with obvious reluctance. Then blue eyes were staring into his, the stranger's melodic voice seeming to penetrate into his soul_._

_"_Happy birthday, lad. Now, _forget."_

o-O-o-O-o

Months later, Katherine asked him about the faded scar on his shoulder one night in bed and he frowned slightly and then told her he fell out of a tree.


	2. Chapter 1

**I.**

_Oh, you are too hot for me, I am too slow for you  
You are a fast explosion and I'm the embers_

Sunset Rubdown "Nightingale / December Song"

_o-O-o-O-o_

_1912_

_Atlantic City, New Jersey_

Stefan went north after the fiasco in Mystic Falls, slaughtering anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. He wanted to escape his shame and, mainly, he wanted to escape Damon. He remembered the look in Damon's eyes, the reproach, but also the _glee_, like he wanted Stefan to fall. He'd lost Damon forever now. Damon would never forgive Stefan for everything he'd done, so why should he even try?

He arrived in Atlantic City on a warm spring evening. He hadn't had a chance to feed properly while traveling all day, just an unsatisfying bite stolen here and there, and now he was practically starving_. _He wandered down to the beach, to the famous boardwalk, and started to hunt. He just spied a couple of young girls and started to follow them when a man stepped in his path. Stefan tried to dodge him, but the man moved between him and his prey once more, stopping Stefan by putting his hand on Stefan's chest.

"Hello, again," the man said, his eyes full of mischief and something darker that made Stefan pause. He glanced down at the hand on his chest and then at the man's face, his eyes narrowing.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"Nik."

Stefan turned and saw a man approaching, more of a boy, he realized. He gave Stefan a dismissive look, his lip curled as if he was smelling something bad, and turned to the blond man. "Just feed already. Dutch is expecting us at the casino."

The man didn't take his eyes off Stefan, and something like anticipation coiled in Stefan's stomach.

"Patience, Kol," the man said, his lips curling in a smile. "Dutch will just have to wait. This bloke is another vampire. A… friend."

Stefan raised his chin. "But I don't know you."

The man laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Oh, but you will. What's your name?"

Stefan gave the man a suspicious look. He felt like he should know the man, this 'Nik,' but he didn't know why. He usually remembered the faces of the other vampires he'd met, but he didn't remember ever seeing any of these men before. Still, there was something about Nik—something _Damon-like_—that drew him. "Stefan. Stefan Salvatore."

"Well, then, Stefan Salvatore," the man said. "I'm Nik. And this is my brother Kol. We'd be pleased to have the pleasure of your company tonight."

Stefan glanced over at Kol, but the other man just rolled his eyes in impatience and whirled around, stalking off down the boardwalk.

"Sure," Stefan said with a shrug. "Why not?"

o-O-o-O-o

The casino, the Lucky Deuce, was just a short distance away. As Stefan and Nik entered, Nik's brother was already there, conversing with a man in his thirties, brutish, but of an almost ridiculous beauty, with sallow skin and dark curls, his hair unfashionably long. Judging by his look of longing and lingering touches, Kol was obviously deeply enamored with the man.

"Have you met Dutch Brown, Stefan?" Nik asked as they reached the two men. "He's in charge of things around here. Unofficially, of course."

"Not yet," Stefan said. Dutch Brown was a local casino owner and reputedly a gangster of some renown. Stefan held out his hand. "But I'm pleased to finally meet you. Stefan Salvatore."

Dutch gave Stefan a once-over and then smirked as he took Stefan's hand.

"Salvatore, eh?" he asked. "Know a Damon Salvatore?"

Stefan's smile wavered. "My brother," he said. "We're… not in contact at the moment."

"Well, next time you see 'im, tell 'im he owes me," Dutch said.

"I'll do that," Stefan said insincerely. His mind was no longer on Damon, however, but on the delicious scent of Dutch's blood. His teeth started to ache, and he took a step closer to the casino owner, gazing at him with a trance-like focus.

"C'mon, Stefan," Nik said, grabbing Stefan's arm and pulling him away. "You'll have time enough to get to know Dutch better later."

Stefan glanced back at Dutch, who was staring after him with an expression of fear as he rubbed his hand and Kol sent Stefan a murderous glare.

"That human is off-limits for feeding," Nik said conversationally. "He belongs to Kol."

Stefan glanced over at Nik. "Then why hasn't he turned him?"

Nik shrugged. "I imagine he will eventually," he said. "If he doesn't tire of him and kill him first. My brother has a capricious nature. My whole family does."

Nik led him to a table on the second level of the casino, which overlooked the main floor with the tables. Stefan sipped his drink as he watched the gamblers for a few minutes, his gums aching as he spied a pretty, plump woman, flushed pink with excitement. He turned to excuse himself and found Nik gazing at him with an openly curious expression.

"Tell me, Stefan," he said. "Who turned you?"

Stefan's jaw tightened as he looked down at the table. "A woman named Katherine Pierce. She turned me and my brother."

Nik's froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Katherine Pierce, you say? Where is she now?"

Stefan shook his head. "Dead," he said. "My brother and I were killed trying to save her."

"Katerina dead," Nik said softly. "I find that hard to believe. She's like the proverbial cat. She always has a way of landing on her feet."

Stefan frowned slightly. "Katerina?" he asked "Did you know her?"

Nik laughed. "Oh, yes," he said. His face grew cold and vicious, and Stefan shivered in fear. "Katherine Pierce, Katerina Petrova. I knew her." He looked up at Stefan and his face softened once again. "But that's a tale for another time."

At that moment, they were joined by Kol and Dutch and Stefan had no opportunity to question Nik any further about Katherine.

o-O-o-O-o

Spring turned into summer, the idyllic days passing into weeks. Stefan moved into the large house that Nik and Kol were renting in the city, and they spent their days and nights feeding and drinking and gambling and wreaking minor havoc on the town. Nik and Kol were the only vampires Stefan had ever met outside of Mystic Falls with daylight rings, and they took full advantage of their freedom. Rarely had Stefan felt such a connection with someone other than Damon, and now that he'd lost his brother forever, Nik was turning out to be a worthy replacement, as they soon became inseparable. Nik was often mercurial, impatient and cruel one minute, and then charming and cajoling the next. Once Stefan tried to ask Nik about Katherine, but the other man simply looked into Stefan's eyes and said, "_Stop_," and Stefan lost interest after that.

Kol seemed to treat him with distrust and dislike, which Stefan chalked up to jealousy over Stefan's fast friendship with Nik. But then one night as he was returning from a hunt, he overheard a conversation between the brothers that gave him pause.

"He has to _go_, Nik," Kol said, his tone almost begging. "I don't trust him around Dutch."

"Stefan is my friend, Kol." Nik's voice was dismissive. "I have the situation under control."

"Bekah won't like it. You know what happened last time."

"Well, I don't give a damn what Rebekah thinks!" Nik snarled. "Mind your own business, Kol, and go tend to your own pretty boy before someone takes him from you."

Kol stormed out, passing Stefan without acknowledging him, and Stefan crept up to his room.

A few days later, Stefan came home to find the house empty, except for Dutch, who was sitting in the parlor waiting for Kol. He greeted Stefan with reserved friendliness, only a slight shaking of his hands revealing the gangster's fear. Stefan's excitement quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had no doubt how the situation would end if he were to feed from Dutch, and he had no desire to disappoint Nik's belief in him.

Stefan poured himself a drink and then sat down to wait for the brothers together with Dutch, picking up the newspaper and starting to read it.

"Cigar?"

Stefan looked up over the edge of the newspaper and smiled. "Thanks," he said and then he returned to his reading.

Engrossed in his reading, he barely paid attention to the sounds of Dutch preparing the cigars, the squeak of a blade and Dutch cursing softly. But then he smelled it. _Blood._ Stefan sat up straight and looked around the side of the paper. Dutch was trying to wrap a handkerchief around a wound on his his finger.

"So clumsy," he said with a nervous laugh as he caught Stefan watching him. "Just cut myself. Nothing serious."

What came next happened in a blur. The smell of Dutch's blood filled Stefan's senses and he gave into it almost without knowing it. Then the taste of Dutch's blood was on his tongue, Dutch's screams fading into the background as he licked Dutch's hand cleaned and then pulled the man closer, sinking his fangs into his muscular throat. Dutch struggled feebly, spurring Stefan's hunger and excitement. He heard footsteps approaching and shouts, but nothing could deter him as he drank and drank.

Stefan let out a moan of frustration as the blood flow slowed to a trickle until nothing more came. He started to suck harder, almost tearing off Dutch's head in his blood lust, when a force hit him, knocking him across the room. Dazed, Stefan looked up to see Kol drop to his knees next to Dutch's body, while Nik was staring at Stefan with a rapt, almost worshipful expression on his face.

"Dutch!" Tears were streaming down Kol's face as he gathered Dutch into his arms, the dead man's head falling at a weird angle as it hung only from a few sinews and tendons. Even if Kol had been feeding him his blood, it would be useless now. "What have you done?"

Nik's gaze was still fixed on Stefan and he started to smile in a way that made Stefan's skin crawl.

"He did what he was born to do," Nik said, running his tongue over his lips. He crooked his finger at Stefan. "Come here, ripper."

"No!" Kol jumped to his feet. "He has to pay!"

In a flash, he was in front of Stefan, his face twisted in hate and rage as he thrust his fist into Stefan's chest. Stefan cried out, his face twisting in pain as he felt Kol's hand on his heart. He was dimly aware of shouting, and then the hand was gone. He watched wide-eyed as Kol went rigid, his face turning grey. Kol fell backwards into Nik's arms. As Stefan watched, Nik carried Kol's body over to the couch, removing the dagger before he laid him down, and then pushing it in through the front again. When he was done, he leaned on the arm of sofa, shaking visibly.

"You killed your brother." Stefan's voice was barely above a whisper as he stared at Kol's dessicated body, an ornate dagger sticking out of his back. The mere sight filled with awe and horror. "You killed your own brother." He tried to imagine what it would be like to kill Damon, but he couldn't. "But how? That's not a stake."

"It's covered in the ash of a white oak," Nik said absently, running his hand over the chintz upholstery. A tear glistened in the corner of his eye. "It's the only thing that can kill him. And I had to do it. He was going to kill you." He raised his eyes to Stefan's, a pleading look on his face. "He can come back. I'll bring him back eventually, when enough time has passed and he no longer wants to kill you, and he'll be good as new." He glanced down at Kol in grief as the tear slipped down his cheek. "I'll bring you back someday, brother, I promise."

Stefan's stomach twisted as he gazed at Nik, and he had to force himself not to run. Nik was mad—did he really think he could bring back his brother from the dead?

Nik straightened up and a manic grin crossed his face. He strode over to Stefan, putting his hands on Stefan's shoulders and gazing at him searchingly.

"But I have you," he said. "You won't leave me. We'll have so much fun together, Stefan. You'll see. You'll be my new brother."

He leaned forward and Stefan froze as he wondered whether Nik was going to kiss him. Before he could find out, however, a door slammed elsewhere in the house, and a woman's voice called out, "Nik? Kol? I'm home!"

Nik drew in a sharp breath and pulled away to look at the door to the room.

"It's Rebekah," he whispered. "She'll kill you when she finds out what you've done." He turned back to Stefan and leaned in again, his eyes fixed on Stefan's. "You have to go. I'll find you, my friend. I promise. Some day. But for now, _you must_ _forget..._"

Out in the street, Stefan heard a woman's screams coming from the house he was passing, but he kept going.

_Westward, ho,_ he thought as he walked into the sunset.


	3. Chapter 2

**II.**

_If there's a hell for lovers  
that's where you're gonna be_

Empires, "Damn Thing's Over"

o-O-o-O-o

_1917_

_Monterey, California_

He'd gone almost four months without human blood. Stefan hadn't seen Lexi in years, but he wanted to do it without her this time. He wanted to be clean before he started to search for her. He wanted to make her proud. So he was back on animal blood and just trying to survive, day for day.

One evening he was hunting for deer in the woods near town when he saw a girl in her late teens: dark hair down to her waist and olive skin, dark, mischievous eyes, giggling as she ran from a small boy, probably her brother.

"Katherine," he whispered. The girl was only a mere shadow of _her_, of course, she reminded him of what he'd lost, only true innocence and sweetness instead of calculation and betrayal, and he was enamored. Keeping to the shadows, he followed them home to a Mexican migrant camp close-by.

It became a ritual. He'd go hunting right before dusk, reaching the village around nightfall, and he'd watch her, playing with her brothers, helping her mother, flirting innocently with the boys of the village. The sight of her simple, but happy life filled him with a longing for what could have been. But the sight of _her_ filled him with hunger. It wasn't time to show himself yet, to meet her. He still had a way to go before he could be with a human again.

After a week or so, he became aware that he wasn't alone in his nightly perambulations. A man was following him, watching Stefan watch her. At first only from a distance, but soon he became bold, standing out openly as he stared at Stefan.

One night after the girl had gone back to the village, Stefan grabbed the stranger by the lapels and pushed him up against a tree.

"Stay away from her," he snarled.

The stranger laughed, sending a shiver down Stefan's spine. "Oh, I'm not here for her," he said and then he leaned forward. As he continued, his voice was just barely above a whisper. "I'm here for you."

Stefan stared at him in confusion and then fell back as he released the stranger.

"Who are you?" he asked. The man was so familiar—both his demeanor and his accent; Stefan felt like he should _know_ him, and it was driving him mad.

"A friend." The stranger took a step forward until he was in Stefan's space again and then he tilted his head with a playful smile. "What, you don't remember me?" he asked with a slightly mocking tone. "My name is Nik."

Stefan frowned as he stared at the man. He couldn't remember the man, but his heart… his heart told him that Nik was telling the truth—he was a friend. "I'm Stefan."

Nik's smile softened. "I know," he said. He reached out and put his hand on Stefan's shoulder. "Come on, let's get a drink."

o-O-o-O-o

Stefan and Nik ordered a couple of mugs of ale from the bar and then retired to a table in the back, safe from probing eyes. Nik offered him a cigar and they smoked in companionable silence for a bit.

"They're lovely, aren't they?" Nik nodded at the two barmaids who were leaning against the bar chatting between orders. "Or would you prefer one of those strapping lads?" He indicated a nearby table of dockworkers.

"Go for it," Stefan said with an offering gesture. "I'll wait here. But I want none of them, sorry. I've sworn off human blood. I only feed on animals."

Nik gave him a long look and then snorted.

"This isn't _you_," he said, shaking his head. "You're a hunter. A predator. Everyone in this bar—in this town—should be afraid of you."

Stefan drew in a shaky breath. "I don't _want_ them to be afraid of me," he said. "And what about you? Do you really _want_ to kill people? Did you read the paper the other day? Scientists have discovered how to preserve blood. Maybe some day there'll be enough of that blood for people like us to be able to feed without killing innocent victims."

Nik leaned forward, his mouth set in an angry line. "You can't fight your nature, Stefan," he said. "Some day it'll win." He made a grasping motion with his hand. "You have to _take_." He sighed and relented, leaning back in his chair. "I see I have my work cut out for me."

"You're not going to convince me to start feeding on people again," Stefan said, raising his glass.

"We'll see," Nik said as he waved over one of the girls. He pulled her onto his lap and gave Stefan a saucy grin before sinking his teeth into her wrist.

Stefan's nostrils filled with the scent of blood and he turned his head away as he fought for control. He was _not_ going to let Nik tempt him.

"I need air," he said, jumping to his feet and leaving the bar.

He stood in the chilly night air, breathing evenly as he willed away the urges. A part of him wanted to go back in and grab the second girl for himself before Nik could have her, but he forced himself to stay put. He was _not_ going to succumb to Nik's temptations. _Not _this_ time_, a voice said in his head, but before he had a chance to analyze it, Nik emerged from the bar. A look of surprise crossed his face, but it was soon replaced with triumph.

"Well, come on then," he said, clapping his hand on Stefan's shoulder and leaving it there. "Let's paint this town red. Figuratively speaking, of course."

o-O-o-O-o

Despite his occasional efforts to tempt Stefan into feeding from people again, Nik was good company. They soon became inseparable, except when it came time to feed. Nik would go off to find some hapless victim, while Stefan returned to the woods. Following some instinct, he stayed away from the migrant village and the lovely dark-haired girl. Maybe if he seemed to forget her, Nik would as well. Afterward, they'd meet at the bar again, Nik relaxed and sated, Stefan less so, and then drink until late in the night.

"I'm an artist," Nik announced suddenly one night.

Stefan gave Nik a skeptical look and then snorted out a laugh. "You're lying."

"I'm not," Nik said with an indignant pout. "And I'm quite good, too." He hesitated, drawing his tongue over his lips as he considered Stefan. "I can prove it."

Stefan smirked. "Are you inviting me back to your place to look at your etchings?" he asked.

A slow, genuine smile spread over Nik's face. "Yeah. I reckon I am."

Stefan's smirk faded as he stared at the other man, his offer unmistakable. Stefan had been with a few men before, victims whose passing he'd sweetened with a few caresses, but never like _this_—never with someone he cared about.

"All right," Stefan said, getting to his feet. "Show me."

Nik's face lit up and he jumped up as well, leading Stefan out of the bar. They'd just turned away and were about to head down the dirt road leading back to town, when a man stepped into their path several paces ahead.

"Niklaus."

Nik stopped short and gasped. Stefan could see horror written all over his face under the street lamp hanging from the bar sign.

"Come on," Nik whispered, grabbing Stefan and dragging him back behind the bar and into the woods.

They ran for what seemed forever until Stefan tripped over a fallen log. Nik ran back and tugged Stefan to his feet. He was about to continue running, but Stefan stopped him.

"Come on," Stefan said. "I'll stand with you. We can take that guy, easy."

He started back down the path towards the man hunting them, but Nik grabbed his arm and dragged him back, whirling Stefan around and pulling him into his arms.

"No, we can't," Nik whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead to Stefan's. "He's much stronger than you. Run. Before he sees you. He always kills my favorite things."

_I'm not yours_, Stefan wanted to say. _And I'm not a 'thing_.' But then came the sound of a crashing branch close by and Nik was pressing his lips to Stefan's, just briefly, before pulling back and gazing into Stefan's eyes.

"_Forget about me. For now."_

o-O-o-O-o

Stefan stumbled aimlessly through the woods for hours in a state of numb confusion, filled with an almost unbearable feeling of loss. He didn't know why, he just knew that he needed… _something_ to kill the pain.

That's when he saw her, the girl who reminded him of Katherine, playing at the edge of the village with her brother. In an instant, he was upon her, ripping open her throat as her brother screamed for help.

By morning, the entire village was dead.

The Ripper was back.


	4. Chapter 3

**III.**

_Do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting  
Lock it up and leave?  
Walk away now and you're gonna start a war_

The National, "Start a War"

o-O-o-O-o

_1922_

_Chicago, Illinois_

Sitting stretched out on the bed with his pillow propped behind his back and an ashtray on his chest, Stefan watched the smoke from his cigarette billow into the air. Rebekah lay next to him, her golden hair fanning across the pillow, gleaming in the moonlight coming through the window, but his thoughts weren't on her for once, but on her brother. An odd thrill went through him as he remembered their meeting earlier in the evening. The look in the other vampire's eyes when he'd confronted Rebekah and Stefan had been akin to betrayal and Stefan had found himself feeling guilty without knowing why. He knew Nik's jealousy had really been directed at Rebekah, but, for a brief moment, Stefan had felt like Nik was mad at _him._

_What makes you worthy of an original like my sister?_

What indeed. Stefan was going to prove he was more than worthy of Rebekah. And of Nik himself.

o-O-o-O-o

The days passed and Stefan and Nik were spending almost more time together than either of them spent with Rebekah, drinking and carousing. Nik reminded him of Damon in many ways, but without the recriminations that had destroyed their relationship. He found himself confiding in Nik, telling him of his adventures in the past decade since he'd last seen his brother. Nik was particularly interested in his slaughter of the villagers in Monterey and demanded that Stefan retell the tale again and again. Stefan's memory was hazy of that night, but he made up for it with embellishments, each more outlandish than the last. The only thing he left out was the feeling he'd had ever since that night that someone—or some_thing_—was following him.

One evening they were on their way to the club to meet Rebekah, when they found themselves walking behind two curvy and attractive girls. Nik winked at Stefan and then they descended on their prey, convincing them without too much effort to go down the next alley with them.

Stefan pulled "his" girl into his arms, suckling noises a short distance away telling him that Nik had already started. The girl opened her mouth to scream, but Stefan ripped open her throat before the sound could get out, reducing her cries to a gurgling whimper. The scent of her blood filled his senses and he let out a bestial growl as he lapped at the blood gushing from the artery before sealing his mouth over the wound with a voracious growl. Stefan's eyes fell closed as he drank and drank, his mind going blank. Once she was drained, Stefan dropped her body and fell back against the wall, panting for breath as he rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth.

When Stefan opened his eyes, Nik was watching him raptly, his own victim lying dead and forgotten on the ground. Nik's lips were stained with blood and it took all of Stefan's willpower not to grab Nik then and there and lick the drops from his pretty mouth.

"You're dirty," Nik said finally. "So much blood. Just look at you."

Stefan looked down at the front of his shirt, his stomach revolting at the sight of all the blood staining his white vest. He looked away, only to find himself gazing into the dead eyes of his victim. Guilt, an almost foreign feeling to him now, came crashing down on him, suffocating him in its weight and he quickly turned away.

"I have to change," he said. "My place is just around the corner. Tell Rebekah I'll be there soon."

"Oh, she can wait," Nik said, rubbing the blood off his mouth with his handkerchief. "I'll go with you. You haven't shown me your etchings."

Stefan snorted. "I don't _have_ etchings," he said.

Nik grinned. "Never mind. Lead the way, ripper."

When they reached Stefan's small apartment, he told Nik to make himself at home and then went into the bathroom to clean up. He ran the water till it was so hot it steamed up the mirror (better not to look into his own eyes) and then scrubbed the blood off his hands and face till his skin was raw and pink and hurting. He gripped the edge of the sink, pushing down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. _Not now!_

He started when a knock came at the bathroom door.

"You drown in there?" Nik called through the door.

"Uh, no, almost done!" he called.

"Fine. But it's a bit dry out here? Got any alcohol?"

"Behind the shelf in the kitchen," Stefan said. "It's a hidden door."

He wiped off his face and glanced down at his hands, the pink skin now faded to his normal pale complexion, and he opened the door of the bathroom.

"What's this?" Nik called from the hidden closet.

"What?" Stefan asked.

"The list." Nik stuck his head out of the doorway. "With people's names." He went back into the closet and Stefan entered behind him, his chest tightening. "Liam Grant, that was the bloke from the night we met." Nik grinned. "The one who drank his wife." He turned to meet Stefan's eyes, something very much like adoration shining from his face. "They're your kills, aren't they?"

Stefan wanted to grab Nik and drag him out of the closet and shut the door and never look at the damn list again. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm.

"Yeah," he said finally. "That way I can relive the kills again and again." _And never, ever forget what I've done._

"Stefan." Nik said

Nik pounced suddenly, his hands and mouth were on Stefan's naked torso. Stefan raised his fists and wanted to push Nik away, but Nik was shredding the rest of his clothes in his impatience, tossing them aside as if they were paper and Stefan just clung to him, returning the caresses. Then Nik took him against the wall without preparation, pounding into him with odd, desperate cries as Stefan's face was pushed into his little list with every thrust.

Afterward, they both sat together in the closet, smoking a cigarette, their legs just barely touching.

"What about Rebekah?" Stefan asked.

"We just won't tell her, of course," Nik said with a chuckle. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Stefan's mouth. "Speaking of which, she's waiting."

They dressed quickly and then hurried to _Gloria's _in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. When they reached the club, Nik put his hand on Stefan's arm.

"I have to go take care of something," he said. "Tell my sister I'll be with you presently."

Rebekah was none too pleased when Stefan appeared, but he soon won her over with cajoling and kisses. They were dancing when the shooting started and then everything happened at once. Rebekah ran, dropping her necklace, and when Stefan went to pick it up, Nik stopped him.

"_You must forget Rebekah and me_," Nik said. "_Until I say otherwise, you never knew us, Stefan. Thank you. I had forgotten what it was like to have a brother._"

o-O-o-O-o

In April, Lexi found him.


	5. Chapter 4

**IV.**

_It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone  
It's always darkest before the dawn_

Florence + The Machine, "Shake It Out"

_o-O-o-O-o_

_1972_

_Harvard University_

_Cambridge, Massachusetts_

"Stefan."

Stefan stopped and turned around, grinning when he saw his American history professor approaching, his perfectly coifed hair waving gently in the breeze.

"Hello, Professor Smith."

"I was just reading your paper on the Reconstruction Era in Virginia right after the Civil War," Professor Smith said. "A fascinating read. Almost as if you'd been there yourself." Professor Smith glanced down at Stefan's hand, which was clutching his books to his chest, and then he smiled to himself. He raised his eyes to meet Stefan's. "But you forgot to cite secondary sources again." He handed the paper to Stefan. "I can't accept this until you've corrected it."

"Oh, right," Stefan said, smacking his free hand to his forehead. "I forgot. It won't happen again, Professor, I promise."

"You're a very bright student, Stefan," Professor Smith said, "but if you want an academic career in today's world, you can't forget proper citations, no matter how well you know your subject matter."

"Of course," Stefan said. It seemed like Professor Smith was warning him somehow, but Stefan figured he was just imagining things.

"Are you originally from Virginia?" Professor Smith asked. "You have a slight accent."

"Not many people notice that," Stefan said. He'd long lost his accent through his years of travel. "But yeah, I am. A place called Mystic Falls."

Professor Smith stopped short and gave Stefan a penetrating glance. "Indeed," he said. "I've… been there before myself. Lovely area."

"It is," Stefan said. "I don't get back often. It can be a bit… stifling."

At that moment, they passed a group of anti-war protesters and stopped to watch an impassioned speaker.

"Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, " Professor Smith murmured suddenly.

Stefan turned back to his professor to find that the other man wasn't paying attention to the speaker, but to a blond hippy with a scraggly beard at the edge of the crowd, who was watching them with a calculating smile playing over his lips. When the hippy caught Stefan looking at him, his smile deepened, and Stefan suddenly had a strong feeling that he knew the man from somewhere.

"Excuse me," Professor Smith muttered. Stefan turned to say goodbye, but the professor was gone. When he looked back at the protesters, the hippy was as well.

He spent the evening in the library adding the secondary sources to his paper and then he returned to his dorm to drop off his things before he went hunting. As he was coming out of his room again, he was startled when someone spoke to him.

"Peace, brother."

Stefan whirled around to find the blond hippy from the protest standing behind him, leaning against the wall outside Stefan's room.

"Peace," Stefan said, half-heartedly showing the other man the peace symbol with his fingers. He frowned at the guy. "Do I know you?"

The stranger—an Englishman judging by his accent—gave him a slow smile. "Do you want to?"

Stefan hesitated and then pushed open the door to his room, indicating that the man should enter.

o-O-o-O-o

Stefan couldn't remember ever falling so fast and hard, especially not for another vampire. They'd been together for only a week, only leaving the bed to go to class or feed, but he felt like he'd known Klaus for a lifetime already. The issue of the _how_ of feeding didn't come up at first—Stefan was careful to feed when Klaus wasn't around, and he had no idea when or how Klaus fed—but like all matters of procrastination, it soon came to a head.

"Go hunting with me," Klaus said one evening, tugging Stefan towards the door.

Stefan's heart started to pound. He'd been dreading this moment since the beginning. Not many of his vampire lovers were tolerant of his animal-only diet, and he knew that Klaus would only drink human blood.

"I can't," he said, bracing himself for Klaus's reaction. "I don't… I don't feed from humans any more. I have problems controlling the blood lust."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Not this again," he said, a slight irritation detectable in his voice. Before Stefan could as what he meant by that, Klaus pulled Stefan into his arms.

"I can help you," he said, nuzzling Stefan's neck. "I'll be there, love, every step of the way. _Please_, Stefan."

Stefan knew that the English called everyone 'love,' but hearing Klaus say it in that gravelly voice of his made Stefan hard, every fucking time.

"Let's talk about this later," he said, pressing his palm against Klaus's crotch and rubbing it. Klaus whimpered and pushed his burgeoning erection into Stefan's hand and the problem was tabled. For the moment.

A few days later, Klaus tried a change of tactic, this time with a considerably more success. They were in bed, making out hot and heavy, Stefan keeping Klaus pinned to the bed as they kissed.

"Drink from me," Klaus said as he came up for air. He rolled his hips under Stefan's weight, the friction from their pricks eliciting a moan from Stefan.

"No," Stefan said, his chest tightening in rising panic. "I can't."

"You can," Klaus said, putting his hand on Stefan's cheek. "Please, I want you to drink from me." He smiled at Stefan, sweet and almost innocent. "Don't you trust me, love?"

Stefan drew in a shaky breath.

"Of course," he said, pressing his lips to Klaus's shoulder.

"Then come _on_," Klaus said, his excitement evident in his breathlessness. "You know you want—uhn!"

Not wanting to get blood up his nose, Stefan suppressed a snicker at Klaus's surprise and he dug his fangs in harder, growling as he started to rock his cock against Klaus's. Klaus was gasping and writhing beneath—_almost like a real victim_, Stefan thought—and Stefan felt the blood lust rising, excitement coiling in his stomach. Vampire blood wasn't as good as human blood, sure, but it was still—_holy shit—_fucking good, and the fact that it was Klaus's blood just made it even _better. _He started to come, his orgasm going on and on and on as he devour his lover's blood, oblivious to Klaus's attempts to push him off. He cried out in sudden pain as he head was yanked up off Klaus's neck and he found himself looking down at a blood-covered Klaus, who was gazing up at him with a sated, pleased expression.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Klaus asked, his face lit up with glee. "My sweet, lovely ripper." Something was very wrong here, Stefan could tell through the blood lust and post-orgasmic haze—for instance, how did Klaus know about _that—_but then Klaus twisted his fingers in Stefan's hair, hard, and leaned in, dragging his tongue up Stefan's throat as he lapped up the blood, and Stefan was lost to sensation once more.

o-O-o-O-o

About a week later, Stefan came home from class one evening to find Klaus getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Klaus met Stefan's eyes in the mirror.

"I'm going to see my brother," he said, as he knotted a scarf around his neck.

"You have a brother?"

"I have _three_," Klaus said, dragging a comb through his hair, though he just as well hadn't bothered. "And a sister. But Elijah is the only one left."

Elijah was Professor Smith's name, Stefan remembered suddenly. Was he Klaus's brother? That would explain the weird looks they'd given each other at the protest.

"Can I meet him?" Stefan asked.

Klaus snorted as he fiddled with his scarf again and Stefan crossed the room to straighten it for him.

"Now's probably not a good time," Klaus said, watching Stefan fix the scarf in the mirror with a wistful expression. "We used to be really close, but we don't get along any more."

"Like me and Damon," Stefan said with a sigh. "Are they vampires, too?"

Klaus nodded. "Yeah, the whole lot of us." He turned to look at him. "I'll tell you the story someday. All you need to know is that they're gone now. And I've got nobody."

Stefan's chest tightened as he realized how distraught the thought of his siblings was making Klaus. "Well, you have _me_ now," he said, leaning over to press his lips to Klaus's.

Klaus grinned. "We've got each other," he said. "I'll remind you of that the next time your arse of a brother comes calling." Grabbing his keys, he headed to the door.

"Oh, yeah," Stefan said, snapping his fingers. "I probably won't be here when you get back. I'm meeting Julie at the library to prepare our presentation for Professor Smith's class."

Klaus's jaw twitched slightly at the mention of Professor Smith, and Stefan wondered if he was right about the professor being Klaus's brother.

"Well, I hope he knows what hardworking students he's got."

Once Klaus was gone, Stefan repacked his backpack and headed over to the library, where Julie was already waiting for him in the history section, which was pretty deserted at this time of evening. Stefan immediately realized he'd made a mistake by meeting her outside of a crowd of people; ever since he'd started drinking from Klaus, the cravings for actual human blood had returned, and it was becoming harder and harder for Stefan to control himself, while Klaus seemed to be getting more and more reluctant to help Stefan rein himself in. Sometimes Stefan even suspected that Klaus _wanted_ him to give in to his urges…

"Stefan," Julie said with a slightly scolding tone. "Focus. We're here to work."

"Sorry," Stefan said.

And for the next few hours, they did, though Stefan had to be reminded several more times to 'focus' as the smell of her blood was a constant distraction. When closing time arrived, Stefan let out a sigh of relief. He couldn't wait to get home and 'feast on' Klaus, among other things.

"You go on and get ready," he said to Julie. "I'll put the books away."

He headed back into the stacks with the pile of books. He could hear Julie putting her stuff away and the distant sounds of other students getting ready to leave and staff locking up. Just as he was putting the last book away, however, he realized that he could no longer hear Julie. With increasing dread, he crept through the stacks back to their table. He could think of only one person who would want to hurt him through one of his friends.

When he reached the table, it was deserted, with a few books strewn about and Julie's backpack lying on the floor.

"Damon?" Stefan called. This was just like his brother.

"Guess again."

Stefan whirled around, his eyes widening in shock as he saw Klaus standing there with a trembling and shaking Julie in his arms.

"I got tired of waiting," Klaus said, cocking his head at Stefan. "I want my ripper back. _Now_."

Stefan stared at Julie, who was choking out half-hysterical sobs.

"Please, Stefan," she sobbed. "Help me."

"'Please, Stefan,'" Klaus smirked as he mimicked her, and for the first time, Stefan noticed that Klaus's smile never did quite reach his eyes. "I have her primed for you, love. Just the way you like them. Do you remember? The panic in their eyes, the smell of their fear…" Klaus lifted her hair away from her throat with an almost tender gesture. "The taste of their blood on your lips and your tongue…"

"Klaus, stop." Stefan took a step forward, breathing shallowly through his nose as he try to control himself. "Let her go."

"Come and make me," Klaus said, his eyes shining with mischief. Julie started to scream as Klaus took out a knife and made a shallow incision on her neck before he leaned down to lick up a drop of her blood. "Mmm, mmm, good."

"That's it, love," Klaus crooned as Stefan stalked towards them. "There's my ripper."

Stefan took a few steps, meaning to save Julie from Klaus's grasp, but then the delicious scent of her blood hit him like a slap, jarring his senses. In an instant, he was overcome by the blood lust, and his face shifted, whereupon her screams turned into shrieks, exciting him beyond reason. He rushed to Klaus and tore her the other vampire's arms. He was just lowering his head to sink his teeth into her throat, when a force slammed into him, carrying him across the room to the far wall. Stefan's eyes widened as he found himself face to face with Professor Smith, who had Stefan pinned against the wall. Before Stefan could react, Professor Smith thrust his hand fist-deep in Stefan's chest. Stefan screamed as the professor rooted around in his chest till he found Stefan's heart, which he took in a firm grip. Any doubts that Professor Smith was Klaus's brother Elijah were now gone.

"Let 'im go, Elijah!" Klaus shouted, taking a step forward.

"He's a ripper, Niklaus." Professor Smith's nostrils flared as he gazed down in disdain at Stefan. "I'd be doing the world a favor. And, I suspect, Stefan, as well." Stefan wheezed, the pain almost unbearable, but he nodded almost imperceptibly as he met Professor Smith's eyes.

Klaus's face turned stony. "He's mine. Give him to me."

"Well, since you care so much, tell him goodbye, Niklaus." Professor Smith gave Stefan's heart a vicious squeeze, eliciting another moan, and Klaus made another jerky step and then stopped. "Make your lover forget you ever existed. Or I'll make sure he forgets permanently."

Klaus glanced at the door like he wanted to run and then again at Stefan, his eyes glistening with tears of rage.

"My patience is wearing thin, " Professor Smith said, his voice bored and indifferent. "Just one little tug, and the matter is settled." Stefan raised his head to give his mentor a bleary-eyed look, but his usual kindly demeanor was gone, replaced by cold calculation.

"Just do it, Elijah!" Klaus snarled. One tear drop had escaped and was trickling down his cheek, but he didn't seem to notice. "He's just a plaything to me. A diversion, nothing more. I'd've killed 'im anyway when I was done with 'im."

Stefan stared at Klaus in disbelief, his chest aching in betrayal as he realized that Klaus had just been using him all this time. He'd never loved Stefan at all. Professor Smith, on the other hand, was obviously not at all surprised by Klaus's revelation, but he seemed saddened, like he'd hoped for something more from his brother.

"Very well, Niklaus," Professor Smith said. "You didn't want it any other way." His arm tensed, and Stefan took in a deep breath, expecting that this was it, he was going to die, when all of a sudden, Klaus was there, his hand on Stefan's cheek.

"_Forget about me_,_ my love. You never knew me. You never met me._"

"Here you go."

Stefan gave Professor Smith a grateful look as he took the glass of whiskey the professor offered him.

"I can't thank you enough, Professor," he said. "I thought I had it under control. I… I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't stopped me—" He broke off as he took a sip. He couldn't believe he'd almost killed Julie. He couldn't even remember how he'd got back to his dorm room. Presumably he had Professor Smith to thank for that as well.

Professor Smith's lips curled into one of his enigmatic smiles. "Don't mention it, Stefan. Is there anyone I can call?"

Stefan thought briefly of Damon, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come.

"Lexi," he said. "I need Lexi." He dug the old receipt with her number on it out of his wallet and handed it to Professor Smith. The older man took the number and leaned forward to gaze into Stefan's eyes, rubbing his thumb over Stefan's cheekbone, in a gentle, almost mesmerizing manner.

o-O-o-O-o

By the time Lexi arrived the next morning, Professor Smith was just a dim, faceless memory.


	6. Chapter 5

**V.**

_I pictured us like corpses lying side by side in pieces in some dark and lonely plot under a bough. We looked so silly_

_There all decomposed, half turned to dust in tattered clothes, though we probably look just as silly now._

The Airborne Toxic Event "The Graveyard Near The House"

_Present Day_

_Mystic Falls, Virginia_

It scared Stefan, the ease and speed with which he fell into Klaus's bed after they left Mystic falls. Klaus didn't have to ask or cajole or force—all it took was the way his lips curved into a rapt smile as he watched Stefan feed, and Stefan was on him, determined to make that knowing, triumphant smile disappear. Sex was a constant fight for dominance, which Klaus always won. Oh, Stefan put up a good fight, and Klaus occasionally let him win a skirmish, but Klaus always won the war. And, as they say, to the victor go the spoils. Afterward, they would lie sated, but not touching, and sometimes Stefan would catch Klaus watching him, assessing him, looking for… something. Whatever it was, Stefan didn't think Klaus was finding it. But that didn't stop Klaus from trying to find whatever it was, with Stefan's acquiescence and, if Stefan were honest with himself, enthusiasm.

But the worst part—the very worst part—wasn't the feeling that he was betraying Elena or even Damon, although that was bad, too. The worst part was that what he had with Klaus felt _right_. Like Stefan was right where he belonged, where he was supposed to be, at Klaus's side, in Klaus's bed. If Klaus felt it, too, he wasn't showing it.

Later, when Klaus—Nik—Niklaus—whoever the true Klaus was in his sick, warped little mind—lifted the compulsion to forget, Stefan realized that a part of him had known all along. Now everything fell into place, his missing memories and the feelings he couldn't locate. Klaus might have taken Stefan's memories again and again, but the feelings had still there, locked up inside him with no outlet. Now they warred with his love for Elena and desire to keep her safe, no matter what.

Ironically, he wasn't sure how much Klaus remembered himself of all the betrayals, large and small, the manipulations, the passion, the feelings of brotherhood and even of love. Klaus didn't seem to get it, to understand what he did wrong or even the feelings themselves. Stefan sometimes thought it would be so easy to just let go. Let Klaus be someone else's problem. It didn't matter what kind of feelings Stefan had for Klaus, how _perfect _it had felt when Klaus had come to him later that night and fucked Stefan through the mattress with an odd sort of desperation like he _knew_ what was going through Stefan's mind. The fact remained that Klaus had to be stopped before he found out that Elena wasn't dead, no matter what it took.

After Klaus compelled him to flip the switch, he never touched Stefan again. Of course, Stefan didn't _care_—the switch was, after all, flipped. He missed the physical closeness—sex is sex after all—but he didn't miss Klaus's touch or the funny sound he made when he came or the haunted look he sometimes got in his eyes when he thought Stefan wasn't looking. When Klaus left town right after, Stefan didn't miss him. He didn't know how.

Then Klaus was back and Stefan's feelings were back, and all he could feel was rage—rage at Damon for not being able to keep from going after Stefan's girl after Stefan gave up _everything_ for him, rage at Elena for not loving him enough, for ruining his life, for _existing_, rage at Klaus for everything else—not just what he'd taken from Stefan in the present, but for it all: his memories, his freedom, his _history_—and above all, his choice.

Then came that fateful night when he almost drove Elena off the bridge, and it changed everything.

o-O-o-O-o

As the weeks passed, he was secretly relieved by Elena's inability to choose between him and Damon. As long as she couldn't decide, he wouldn't have to. He wouldn't be able to leave her if she chose him, not after everything he'd put her through; he owed her and he'd never leave her again if he should be the one, not willingly at least. But still, it didn't stop him from wanting what he shouldn't want when he caught occasional glimpses of _his_ Nik, _his_ Klaus. He knew, however, that a life with this Klaus wouldn't be a life at all; it would be a living death.

Then the time came for _Stefan_ to choose, and Klaus made it easy on him. Klaus was a madman, a homicidal maniac who hurt and hurt and hurt people. Stefan chose Elena, if only to save Damon.

He wished it hadn't come to this. He wished Klaus had taken him up on his offer to leave town together, with or, better yet, without Elena.

As the life ebbed from Klaus's face, his look of betrayal searing itself into Stefan's soul, all Stefan could do was stare. He felt both freed and damned at once. When the others left him to make arrangements, he stayed for a bit longer, staring at the man who been with him for so long over the past century, his greatest enemy, his greatest lover, his greatest friend. Finally, Damon called him, his impatience evident in his voice, and Stefan leaned down and closed Klaus's eyes.

"Forget me not," he whispered.

o-O-o-O-o

When he got the chance to do it all again, he let Elena drown, killing Alaric and thus avenging Klaus's death. For once in his life, the Ripper was appeased.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_I can't promise you  
that I won't let you down  
And I can't promise you  
that I will be the only one around  
when your hope falls down_

Mumford and Sons "Hold On To What You Believe"

_Ten Years After_

_Portland, Oregon_

"Portland? Really? You know I _hate_ Portland."

Stefan smiled into his whiskey without looking up.

"Hello, Klaus," he said.

"Stefan." Klaus slid onto the stool next to him and ordered a bourbon from the bartender. "Do you know it's raining? But of course you do, that's why you're here. Can't have Stefan being, I don't know, _cheerful_, can we now?"

"What do you want, Klaus?"

"What, can't I visit an old friend without being accused of having an ulterior motive?"

Stefan shook his head and looked over at Klaus finally. Despite his jovial tone and smile, Klaus had a look of desperation about him.

"No."

Klaus widened his eyes in mock innocence and pressed his hand to his heart. "I'm wounded at your lack of faith," he said. At that moment, his drink arrived and he took a sip. "We missed you at the wedding."

Stefan raised a brow. "I kind of doubted that Kol really wanted me there after what happened in Atlantic City."

Klaus held up a finger. "Not true," he said. "He even turned Jeremy the night before the wedding in anticipation of your arrival. 'Just in case,' he said. 'We wouldn't want a guest to eat one of the grooms during the ceremony,' he said."

Stefan snorted in amusement. "I haven't done that kind of thing in a long time."

"And more's the pity," Klaus said with a wink. "I sort of miss old, fun Stefan. Though I suppose there's something to be said for gloomy, rainy-day Stefan as well." He furrowed his brow as he looked down at his drink. "Is it because _they_ were there?"

"Who?"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "You know. Snow White and Dopey."

"You know, I'm pretty sure Damon would be able to come up with much cooler nicknames for him and Elena," Stefan said.

Klaus looked slightly dejected. "I wasn't aiming for cool," he said with a pout.

"Well, you succeeded." As Klaus's pout deepened into a scowl, Stefan held up his hand in a placating gesture. Despite Klaus's attempt to hide his concerns behind a flippant attitude, Stefan had a feeling he knew what Klaus wanted to hear from him, and Stefan was in a generous mood tonight. "And the answer is no. It had nothing to do with them. I'm happy for Damon and Elena, and I'm over it. Have been for a while. I just had stuff to do that weekend."

"Fair enough," Klaus said, giving Stefan a considering look. "Do you know what today is?"

Stefan frowned slightly and shook his head.

"Enlighten me," he said, knocking back the rest of his drink and motioning to the bartender for another.

"Ten years," Klaus said softly. "Your ten years of service to me are up today."

"I haven't actually 'served' you for the last nine years and eight months of that service."

"Whatever," Klaus said. He waited as the bartender handed Stefan his new glass and then raised his own. "I hereby release you from your promise. For what it was worth."

Stefan chuckled. "All right," he said. "Thanks, I guess." He took a deep sip and then held out his glass again. "And to old friends."

Klaus paused and then his faced turned wistful. "Just friends?"

Stefan smirked. "We'll see."

o-O-o-O-o

That, of course, was just the beginning of the story.


End file.
